


The Beginning Is the End

by turnonmyheels



Series: Keep Going To the End [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnonmyheels/pseuds/turnonmyheels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Argents and the Hales have a long and bloody history spanning generations.  Or Kate had a reason for targeting Derek.  Fic takes place in three timelines:  1996, 2006, and 2011.</p><p>Chapter 7 could be triggery, please see the specific notes on that chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic in the 1996 timeline Peter Hale is a high school senior and Kate is a high school freshman. Peter is eighteen, Kate is fourteen, Laura is eight and Derek just turned four.
> 
>  
> 
> Beta by Ladycat777 all mistakes are my own.

**1996**

Peter sees her for the first time at basketball practice. The conference championships are the next day, so it’s light, easy work: running through plays and screens; rebound, jump shot, and free throw drills. He barely breaks a sweat during a tough game, so an easy practice like this is a cake walk. He hears her before he sees her. Her voice is low and a little husky, it reminds him of honey dripping from a spoon. 

He hits his free throws and jogs to the back of the line, eyes scanning the crowded gym looking for the face to go with the voice. She laughs then and it hits him like a shock wave; he nearly trips over the basketball when it’s passed to him. As he dribbles the ball he actually sees her. Tucked into the far corner of the gym, she’s talking to the athletic director. 

The ball bounces, three, four times, he squares his shoulders and aims for the basket. 

Nothing but net.

Coach blows the whistle to signal the end of practice and Peter heads toward the locker room. He’s locked onto her now, he can hear the beat of her heart, pick her out over the din of the gym. He locks onto the sound of her voice and listens as he follows his team down to the locker room, through his shower, and past the start of the pep talk for tomorrow's game from his coach. “I don’t understand why I have to waste my time running laps and shooting baskets. I’m on the Junior Olympic team for god’s sake. I need to devote every minute I can to target practice.”

“Now, Katie, if we’re seen giving you spe-”

“My name is Kate. Or Miss Argent.”

“Kate, we have to treat all of our students the same. I can’t give you special dispensation, it’s a requirement of the state of California that you fill a physical education requirement.” 

“And I’m telling you, I will fulfill it with target practice.”

“And I’m telling you _again_ , the school does not have the facilities you need in order to do that.”

“You’ll be hearing from my father about this.”

Peter grabs his bag and heads toward his car by way of the gym. He lost her track of her after she threatened the athletic director. But it shouldn’t be difficult to pick up her scent. He heads for the corner of gym where he saw her. He casts a quick glance around to ensure no one is paying attention to him. He closes his eyes and tries to shut off his hearing before taking a deep breath. The gym is rife with scents, all the people in and out, food, equipment, emotions, hormones, it’s overwhelming. But he works through it until he finds the scent that must be hers. He grins and opens his eyes. This is going to be fun. Hunts always are.

He drops his duffle off at his car and then follows her at a jog. He’s a mile or so down the road before he finally spots her. She’s running home. Thick-soled boots slapping against the pavement, tight little bubble-butt bouncing in her camouflage pants. The tank she’s wearing is getting wet under the arms. He breathes in to catch the spice-scent of sweat and anger again, rolling it over his tongue like a fine wine. It’s _different_. Like nothing he’s ever tasted before. He wants to chase her down and catch her; taste her skin with his tongue commit her to memory, and her make her his. It's unsettling how strong the desire is, but he doesn't fight it. It's always easier when you don't fight the instincts.

With a little bit of effort, he speeds up until they’re jogging side by side. She speeds up. 

He matches her. 

Her glare is hot enough that he doesn’t have to turn to see it. “Hi,” he says, reminding himself to pant. 

“Go away.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Peter.” 

She puts on a burst of speed, sprinting as hard as she likely can. He debates chasing after her. After all, he could run her into the ground without breaking a sweat. But could a regular human? Probably, he decides. He is the star of the basketball team, he could at least catch up to her.

As a kindness, even if she won’t understand, he makes sure it doesn’t look too easy. 

She’s panting and starting to slow by the time he catches her. He matches both pace and breathing in another gesture she won’t understand. “You must be new in town.”

“I said go away.”

She turns then and runs right up the front steps to a house. Peter stops but doesn’t follow her up onto the porch. “Hi Dad. Chris.”

“You’re late, missy.”

She kisses her dad on the cheek and smiles at what must be her brother as he hands her a glass of water. “Sorry, got into an argument with the athletic director about my archery. You’re going to have to intervene.”

“Who’s your friend?’’ her father asks. Peter doesn’t like the way that the men are looking at him, like he’s something to be suspicious of. He waves and resumes his jog, keeping an ear and eye on the conversation as long as he can. “Beats me, followed me home from school like a lost dog.” 

“You know I don’t like strays.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I also don’t like having to fight your battles for you. You’re going to handle the situation on your own.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she repeats in the same neutral tone. Her eyes flash.

Peter cuts through a yard and heads back to the school. Kate and Chris. He hasn’t seen Chris at school. He looked older than Kate. Older than Peter, too. He grins and picks up his pace, running fast enough to feel his heart rate increase but not fast enough to draw attention. Kate of the honey voice and spicy scent. He thinks he can still smell her even after he is home with his family tousling with his cousins.

He jerks off remembering the scent of her and the way the sunlight painted blonde highlights in her hair as they ran through Beacon Hills. He comes quickly, quicker than he wanted to. He wipes off on the sheet and curls up on his side. He falls asleep in seconds and dreams of her husky laugh.

He wakes in the morning with her name on his lips and sticky sheets beneath him. It’s been a long time since Peter found anyone purely human attractive. Kate is gutsy and strong, as pushy as any wolf. Or so she seems right now. Peter is a pretty good judge of character and he doesn’t think he’s wrong.

He’s going to have fun with this chase. A lot of fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 keeps eating my formatting. I've recoded by hand and the whole nine yards, sorry.

**2006**  
Derek somersaults at the end of the lane, flipping and kicking effortlessly transitioning from crawl to butterfly. Even with the splashing water muffling his hearing he can listen to his teammate’s conversation. 

“What are we gonna do without Coach?”

“Who cares about Coach? What are we gonna do if that kid presses charges?” 

Somersault, kick, twist, and backstroke. The guilt Derek’s been carrying over the incident settles a little deeper in his chest. He didn’t push the kid in, hell he hadn’t even been aware that it had happened. But he should have been. He should have been paying attention to his surroundings and monitoring his teammates especially considering he’d been the only sober person at the party. 

“What’s he gonna say? Boo-hoo, I was pushed into a swimming pool and freaked out? You can’t arrest a person for pushing someone into a swimming pool.”

“No, but you can sue for negligence. Coach shouldn’t have been letting us drink in the first place.”

Somersault, kick, twist, and breaststroke. It’s not his favorite stroke, too slow, even with his heightened abilities so he practices it more than the others. He’s got two more laps to swim before he can get out and head to conditioning. No one else is even bothering to pretend to practice. Derek realizes he probably shouldn’t either so he can blend in better, but he likes the exertion. He loves to push through the water and allow it to muffle his hearing. He loves the way the chlorine fills his head and drowns out the miasma of the school. In the pool, his senses are nearly as dull as everyone else’s. Somersault, kick, twist, one last freestyle lap and he’s out of here. He tunes the other kids out as much as he can and focuses on the sound of the water as it glides past his head, buffering him from the world outside.  


It’s the closest he ever comes to a meditative state.

His laps always end too soon. He’d love to swim for hours until he actually feels the burn in his lungs and body. That’s not possible at the pool on school property and at home there’s nothing but woods to run in. Running is nice too but it doesn’t provide the calm of swimming. Too bad. Reluctantly, he hauls himself up the ladder and then pauses when he catches a scent. Spicy-sweet, tinged with something he can’t quite put his finger on. Anger? Hatred? Whatever it is, it’s dark and rich, heady enough to catch his attention even over the chlorine.

A whistle blows piercingly loud and much too long. Derek doesn’t let anyone see how startled he is. Training helps but school is always more of a hunter’s den than any midnight run. Students are always looking for ways to turn on each other and Derek has few friends.

When he turns around he finds the principal standing with a woman dressed in a speedo and track pants. “All right everyone, over here. This is Kate Argent, she’s going to be filling in for Coach Lahey while he’s …” Derek arches an eyebrow and wonders what excuse the school came up with.

Before the principal can stumble his way through an explanation the woman speaks up. “I’m Coach Argent. If you haven’t already swam your 2500 meter warm up, get to it. If you’ve finished,” her gaze turns to Derek, “get changed and head into conditioning. I want everyone lifting on the same schedule. Today is legs and back, get going.” She blows the whistle and the entire team other than Derek jumps into the pool.

Derek grabs his towel and perfunctorily dries off. He wraps it around his waist then heads toward the locker room.

“Hey there. Over-achiever.” There’s a twist to the new coach’s mouth that might be amusement. Only maybe- there’s a glint to her eyes that he doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t dislike it, either.

“Yes, coach?” 

“Too proud to slack off like the others?” The glint to her smile gets deeper when Derek shrugs, stopping right beside her. “You’re not working off a guilty conscience are you?” She doesn’t let him shake his head once before adding, “Good. There’s no room for that pussy nonsense here.”

 

He’s struck by her words, shocked and titillated. He’s heard Finnstock say things like that before but no one else. Ever. 

“What, never heard a woman say ‘pussy’ before?” Her mouth twists again and this time he’s sure it’s a smile. Maybe. “Get used to it. Come on, get your ass in gear, when you’re finished with weights I want you back in here, team meeting.” 

That will mean Derek has a lot of waiting around to do. Her maybe-grin seems aware of that.

“You can leave after the meeting, over-achiever.” Dismissing him, she heads to the end of the pool and blasts out another piercing whistle. “Pick it up,” she yells, as commanding as any alpha. “This is a workout not skinny dipping. You there, lane three, I’ve never seen such a sloppy dolphin before, get your legs together! This isn’t prom night, legs together and _kick_.”

 

She’s completely outrageous and utterly inappropriate. He moves close enough to her to catch her scent again; it’s absolutely indescribable. And somehow familiar, too. Something old, which makes no sense as the woman can’t be more than five or six years older than he is. Still the scent is tantalizing and he inhales again, trying desperately to remember the source. Nothing comes to mind except … that maybe he was born knowing it. 

“Lane three! Stop. I can’t believe I’ve got to do a demonstration. Aren’t you competitive swimmers? How can you be competitive and not know how to do a kick?” 

 

She shoves her track pants down and tosses the whistle to the ground. Derek can’t tear his eyes off of her. She’s magnificent, long and lean with clearly defined muscles. Powerful and dominant. He wants to get down on his knees and roll over, show her his belly. He whines a little in the back of his throat and it’s like she heard him even over the splashing, echoing din of the swimmers. She looks over her shoulder and catches him staring at her. This time there’s nothing hidden about her smirk. Then she dives into the pool and demonstrates a perfect dolphin kick.

 

He’s never been interested in a human before, but Coach Argent is something else.


	3. Chapter 3

**1996**

To no one’s surprise they win the conference championship. Peter plays his trying-to-be-human best and winds up with double digits in assists, points, and rebounds before fouling out. His entire family attends the game. None of them comment on how high his numbers are but there are a few smirks he enjoys. Afterward they go running through the forest under a gleaming full moon. All of them join in, even the little ones who haven’t begun to shift. Peter keeps an eye on his cousins, helping them over the worst spots, and then without making a big deal out of it, his mother asks him to help fell a deer. They share the huge buck with the whole pack. 

It’s the best night of his life.

It’s also the first time there are signs of hunters in Beacon Hills for fifteen years and the last time the entire pack will ever run together.  
But no one knows that yet.

* * *

“Dad, you’ve got to tell her.” 

“You think because you’ve got a child of your own now that you have the right to tell me how to raise my daughter?” 

Chris looks at his father over the top of Allison’s head. Her fingers are short, chubby little things above hands that are just as chubby. The bow is too large by half, one of Kate’s that she out-grew years ago. It is both utterly ridiculous and utterly charming. Watching her face screw up in concentration makes his heart swell. She marches with more determination than Chris thought she was capable of mustering to stand beside her aunt. They nock their arrows and draw back. Kate takes the shot and hits the bulls-eye, but Allison can’t quite draw the bow. 

“I think,” Chris starts, but his thoughts are interrupted as Kate squats down behind Allison and helps her. The arrow releases and flies true to hit the target board. It’s no bulls-eye, but she hit it. Allison squeals with delight and Kate gives her a high five. Chris swallows around the lump in his throat -- it’s clear she's ready for her own bow as much as he wants to delay it -- and turns back to glare at his father. “I think that Kate would be safer if she knew there is an established pack of werewolves in this town.”

“And I think Kate needs to discover that on her own.” Gerard’s mouth twists and his eyes narrow. “If she can’t learn to spot a werewolf until it’s shifted she’s going to get herself killed.”

“She thinks you moved here for business.”

“Kate knows what my business is. What _Argent_ business is.” Gerard tilts his head to their two daughters. “Since we’re sharing parenting tips, it’s time you told Allison.”

Chris’s jaw does not drop, but only because he’s always on guard around his father. “You think I should tell my toddler that monsters are real?”

“It’s best to get these things out in the open. As early as possible.”

“And yet you still haven’t told Kate that some of her classmates are werewolves.”

“That’s right, she knows that they exist. I’ve taken her out every full moon for a year now. I can’t get her in the hunting mindset without tellin’ her it’s lesson time. She’s got to figure out on her own how to constantly be aware of her surroundings and look for signs everywhere, all the time? Like I did. Like you did. She needs to know how to spot them and be confident about it.” His father grins as Kate hits another effortless bulls-eye. “She needs to be ready to kill and she’s not yet. She will be, though. By the time we move again.” 

Chris searches for something to say. Something that will make his father ease up on Kate maybe give her a few more years of a mostly normal life. But like every other time they’ve talked since his mother was bitten and killed, he can’t find the words. 

His father nods like Chris has said something. “You warn her about the Hales and I’ll tell Allison.”

And Chris can only stare in complete shock as his father—as Gerard—walks away.

* * *

The last three months of Peter’s senior year are pointless. That’s his opinion, anyway. He could fail every class this last quarter and still graduate. His acceptance to Humboldt is on a basketball scholarship and it doesn’t matter how many people have mentioned maintaining a grade point average. All they care about are his court numbers not his gpa. With the basketball season over he has nothing to look forward to. His classes aren’t challenging -- his own fault, his guidance counselor had warned him about slacking off -- he doesn’t enjoy any of the spring sports, and while he’s one of the most popular kids in school, he isn’t really close to anyone.

He can’t be. His control is very nearly perfect but it’s still a risk. Nearly isn’t perfect, and he will not be the one to expose the pack to outsiders. He honestly doesn’t resent it, either. He’s just so _bored_.

The bell rings for second period. Lockers slam shut and kids jostle each other down the hall. He gets a few high fives and back slaps over the game and yeah, he enjoys the attention, but it’s not like it was a challenge. The only challenge Peter has ever had was learning to control himself when puberty hit and he first started to shift.

He slides into Spanish just as the late bell rings and takes his usual seat in the back of the room. Yet another period spent paying just enough attention to be able to answer if called upon but otherwise letting his thoughts wander.

What he’d _rather_ do is skip the rest of the year and help the pack. There are hunters around. A hint of a cold scent of _other_ first noticed on their hunt has solidified over the last few days and his mother has confirmed there are new hunters in the area. She hadn’t let the discovery ruin their run but by the next day new rules have been laid out. Outside of school, none of the kids are allowed out of sight of the house which meant Peter, as the oldest of the ‘kids’, has to be the one to stay home with them. Normally, that wasn’t a chore, because they could roam and ramble. Being confined to the area around the house was stifling.

Especially since the twins were hitting puberty. That was a complicated enough time with pure humans, but with werewolves it means starting to shift for the first time. Joshua and Jeremiah are a handful on a good day. With their hormones raging and bodies changing they are often more wolf than human at home, constantly testing more than emotional boundaries. Peter does not enjoy having to keep them under his thumb. Two days of it and all of them are already chafing under the strain and it is only going to get worse. He _does_ enjoy his position over the kids as far as protecting them and teaching them goes, but damn the twins are difficult. His mother laughs whenever he mentions it but no way was Peter ever that wild. The little ones are easier with Laura and Derek still sweet and fun. They listened and obeyed like good little betas. 

Peter glances at the clock. Ten minutes down, only forty more to go. Joy. He leans forward with his arms crossed and rests his chin on his hands. The position is obviously ‘resting’ but he’s in the back and the teacher understands bored seniors. So long as Peter remains quiet and keeps watching her she won’t call on him and he’s free to let his senses expand. It’s always a rush to let everything he’s been keeping out come streaming back in. He could get drunk on the heavy layers of scent surrounding him. He could _drown_ in it. Everything has some sort of scent, even the cold metals and never-living plastics that fill the school and for a moment, the cacophony of it is overwhelming.

One by one, though, he starts filtering them down. He starts with the chemicals. Those are hardest, particularly the stringent odors of Clorox and Lysol that drench most of the school. The janitor is a determined man. Then come the woods and paper scents, the faint odors of home that trail each student like a ghostly cloud, further and further until all he smells is human. 

Peter breathes deeply, ignoring all the typically male smells. He tunes out everything one at a time until he finds it. Her. That spicy-sweet tang that he can’t quantify if his life depends on it belonging to a girl he catches only glimpses of no matter how he tries to arrange a second meeting. Once he catches the scent finding her heartbeat is simple listening so hard that all he really hears is the thump of her body. The rush of blood that sings something high and oddly sweet as Peter listens to it. It doesn’t matter how far away she is. When he locks in like this, Peter can hear everything.

Including her voice. It does things to him, too low and throaty for a girl so young. Trying to make herself seem older than she really is, he guesses. Seem gruffer. Peter listens to her argue with someone, with … the principle about her PE requirements.  


Again. 

“I am not wasting my time in your PE class,” she says with a confidence most of the senior girls can’t match, let alone the freshman. “I am an athlete. I won silver at the last Junior Olympics. I get more physical activity before school starts than your petty little class can give me in a month.”

“Miss Argent, I understand your frustration, but the state requirement is attendance and participation.”

Kate doesn’t like that but the principle probably doesn’t hear the low grunt of frustration she makes. “Can I bring my archery equipment and use the time to practice?”

The principle hems and haws. His cited safety concerns make Peter laugh to himself and he gets the sensation that Kate is, as well.  
“What about conditioning,” is her next gambit.

“Conditioning?”

“I get up every morning at five am and run ten miles. After school I lift weights and then I’m at the range until seven before I do homework, spend some time with my family and if I’m lucky, sleep. If I could do some of that during school I might have more time for homework. Or sleeping.” 

Clever, Peter thinks. A simple solution is always the most elegant. Too bad the principle isn’t creative or flexible enough to respond it. “Track season is starting.” he offers.

“I barely have enough time to say hello to my father and now I’m supposed to run track?”

In his class, Peter shakes his head slightly. Her disdain is obvious. He isn’t surprised when the principle snaps back with, “Either run on the team instead of PE or you’ll take it every day for the rest of the time you’re in this school.”

“My father is not going to be pleased with this,” Kate answers, contempt curdling into something Peter can smell but not name.

“When your father is the principal of this school, then he can have a say-so in what happens. Until then, this is your best option.”

Kate just barely snaps back the snarl that Peter _swears he can hear and channels the cinder and ash scent into a remarkably sedate, “Fine.”_

Peter smiles as she stomps carefully out of the office and then is a lot less controlled as she stalks down the hallways. Suddenly spring sports are a lot more intriguing.

* * *

“Do you really think that when hunters come to our home and spread their stench through our territory is the best time to pick up a new sport?” Mom isn’t using her mom voice--this is the Alpha speaking. His spine snaps straight and Peter is forced (ok, maybe a little of mom-voice) to think it through. Beginning to end.  
He finds his answer far too quickly. No. No, it isn’t the best time to pick up a new sport. It isn’t the best time to do anything but stay with his pack and protect them as best he can. A new voice, one that sounds like his but is a lot stronger than he’s used to when his alpha is speaking, reminds him that _Kate_ will be on the team. Joining it will let him get closer to her without finding stupid excuses. He could learn what makes her smell so good and sound so adult. It’s the first time a girl has really caught his attention and as powerful as his alphas commands are, so too is the need to get close to this girl. 

“Answer me, Peter.” Mom arches her eyebrow and puts enough command in her voice that his mouth opens and he answers without any conscious decision to do so.

“There’s a new girl at school. She’s an archer. She’s going to be on the track team and there’s something about her --she smells so--”

“What’s her name?” His mother’s voice drops nearly an octave into the sub-vocal growl that makes his knees shake.

“Kate. Kate Argent.”

This time the growl isn’t sub-vocal. It’s a howl that freezes him in place, terrified he’s somehow done something wrong, while it summons the rest of the pack together. The sound of bodies moving fills the house while his mother turns to him with a look Peter has never seen before. Rage, yes, red-eyed and cold as a winter’s moonlit hunt, but also fear. “The Argents are hunters. They killed your Uncle Russ.” 

Peter doesn’t remember his uncle well. He was barely three when he died, but there are still impressions of white-blond hair and blue eyes that smiled down at him. Cold winter mornings that are more story than true memory of sitting with him at the deer stand his uncle maintained during hunting season. A useful way of blending his uncle had taught him, and other ways of managing humans--and human mistakes--that Peter had soaked up like a full moon’s light. 

“Make the team,” his mother instructs, yanking his attention back. “Don’t be obvious. I want to know what this girl knows about us. Get close to her, but not too close.” The pack is coming together, by car and on foot, pouring in through the woods and roaring too fast up the gravel so rock sprays everywhere. “I want you to tell everyone everything you know.”

Peter swallows. He’d never been allowed to sit in on a pack meeting like this, much less participate in something to protect the pack.

Forget about spring sports. _Spring_ just got a lot less boring


	4. Chapter 4

**2006**

Two weeks later, Coach Argent is still shocking him. She yells at them, blows that ubiquitous whistle so much his ears never seem to stop ringing day or night, and she pushes them. Hard. Pushes _them_. The team is constantly whining about how tough she is. How mean. How out of touch her expectations are. 

Derek keeps quiet. He works hard at looking like he’s struggling, tries to match his breathing and lack of enthusiasm to those of his teammates but he feels like she knows his effort is more in trying to fit in than struggling with the physical demands she’s placing on them. It makes him feel reckless and a little wild. Not unlike shifting and running through the forest under the full moon.

He likes it more when he catches her watching him. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes he can feel sort of an itch between his shoulder blades, and sure enough Coach Argent’s entire focus will be on him. Depending on what he’s doing at the time it makes him swim faster, run longer, or squeeze in an extra set. 

“Everybody listen up!” She blows the whistle in the weight room. He picks up a hushed conversation along the way about getting the whistle classified as domestic terrorism. That’s the best idea he’s heard all year. “Your first meet is in two weeks and I’ve decided to step up your conditioning.” The immediate grumbling sounds like far off thunder. Derek doesn’t know why they can’t keep their mouths shut. She only blows the damn whistle because they’re always talking.

He covers his ears with his hands as she brings it back to her mouth. Her lips open a bit wider than necessary and wrap around the lip of the whistle. She looks right at him and blows. It’s not the short sharp call to order he’s used to. This one doesn’t want to end. One by one his teammates cover their own ears. It’s not until after everyone is completely silent and she’s made eye contact with the entire team that she stops.

Derek is impressed with her lung capacity. He doesn’t know why the thought makes him flush, just a little.

“I’ve had enough of your whining and complaining. These are not swimming lessons for children. This is a competitive swimming team and if you’re not willing to put in the effort, to force yourself beyond what you think you can do, to put everything you’ve got into what you’re doing.” Her pause is well timed enough for theater. Then she points to the door. “Leave. There’s a chance your old coach could come back.” Her gaze lingers on the seniors and even under the chlorine tang Derek can smell contempt. “Or that they’ll hire someone else next year.”

Derek looks around the room. A couple of the younger ones grab their gear and leave. He’s not surprised. 

Coach Argent waits another moment and then nods. “Good. Now that I’ve finally gotten rid of the weak links, let’s talk about your conditioning. Only a handful of you are actually working anywhere near your maximum capability. You are aware that if you’re lifting, if you’re not maxing out you’re wasting time and effort. Right?” 

Derek’s pulse starts to pick up; it’s going to be a lot harder to blend in with this kind of work-out. He knows the best thing to do is pick one person and emulate them, but who should he choose? Sean? Camden? They’re the two closest to him in stature, but they’re a couple years older too. Coach Kate is still lecturing, flinging out terms he doesn’t know like VO2 max, lactate thresholds, and valsalva maneuver. Sean’s pretty built he’s got a lot more muscle mass than Derek. Camden though, he’s long and lean like Derek. He’s also going straight into the military and is in better shape than anyone else on the team. Plus, Coach Argent yells at him the least. She always calls him “Marine”. Everyone can hear the capital letter.

“Marine! Muscles!” is her name for Sean. “You two together.” She quickly pairs off the team. “Push each other, spot each other, no slacking off.” Everyone has a partner except Derek.

“Over-achiever. You’re with me.” Her mouth twists in that way he can’t quite read. She jerks her head to the squat racks. He can feel himself start to panic. He knows better than to let her close enough to see him work. He should have walked out the door with the others. He still can, he tells himself as he starts loading the bar. “Legs and back today. You ready to show me what you can do?” There’s a teasing tone to her voice. He jerks his head in a nod and shoulders the bar.

“Stick with me kid, I’ll have you bulked up bigger than Muscles over there in no time.” 

She pushes him. He lets her. “You’ve got the right build. If you work at it you could build up your muscle mass, bulk up a bit, put on, oh, 30 pounds or so.” Derek switches to the pull up bar. His hands curl around the cool metal. They feel slick with sweat so he wipes them on his shorts before gripping the bar again. He pulls his knees towards his chest and starts to pull. He can feel the heat of her behind him, counting off his reps. He fakes shakiness he doesn’t feel and when she finally lets him stop she whispers in his ear, “You would be beautiful.”

It goes straight to his dick. His knees actually buckle. She chuckles and runs two fingers down his spine. “You need to work harder, Over-achiever, you didn’t even break a sweat.” She slaps him on the butt and blows the whistle again. This close it spikes through his head nearly bringing tears to his eyes.

“Swim out that stiffness, 3500 meters and you can go.”

* * *

Every practice is more of the same. Lifting, running, swimming. The rest of the team is always paired together—except Derek. Coach Argent always works with him one-on-one. Kara calls him coach’s pet and soon the others start calling him that too -- at least until they realize that the more she focuses on him, the easier they have it. The teasing falls by the wayside.

They win their first meet. And the second. Derek puts on ten pounds of pure muscle primarily in his chest and shoulders. He develops a v-cut. Coach Argent’s gaze is heavy as she eyes him coming out of the pool. 

She tells him to call her Kate when no one else is around. 

If her hands linger more and more when she’s spotting him, he doesn’t say anything. He certainly doesn’t mind. She makes him feel special. He wants to live up to her expectations, wants to make her proud.

* * *

They lose their third meet badly. Only a handful of the team finishes in the top three. No one wins a race.

Coach Argent loses her temper spectacularly. No one is spared her wrath, from the team, the time keepers, the opposing coach, and even the principle, when he tries to talk her down. The sheer volume of rage and upset is mesmerizing. Maybe a little disturbing, too, Derek adds, when she just barely stops herself from grabbing one of the volunteers, a little old lady long ago retired.  
At the next practice, even Derek is exhausted afterward.

They win their fourth meet. 

And every other meet they have under her brutal and effective coaching style.

* * *

The familiar snap of a towel stings his butt. “Great swim. You timed it perfectly with that final push.” Her breath is hot against his ear as she pops the ‘p’s. She’s in her swim suit and track pants. He can feel the stiff peak of her nipple graze his arm. 

Derek blushes so hard the tips of his ears feel like they’re on fire. 

When she walks past him to congratulate the winners and berate the losers, he watches to see if she gets that close to anyone else. She doesn’t. 

Later, after the post-mortem dissection of their races and the team has left, Derek finds himself loitering in the parking lot waiting on Kate to come out. People slowly disburse until her car is the only one left. He checks his watch and rolls his eyes. She’s always at least half an hour later than she says she’ll be. He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders. No point wasting time. He scans the area until he finds a likely spot.

In seconds he’s alternating pull ups and chin ups on a low hanging tree branch with various types of push-ups. He’s hit his rhythm, breathing hard and starting to feel the burn when he smells her. He keeps going until he feels a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. He can hear her breathing shift and her pulse pick up. Derek knows better than to show off. He’s spent his entire life blending in. He can practically write a term paper on how to not stand out. Mediocrity is the lot in human life he’s cursed to. And yet, despite the danger, he’s unable to push down the feelings of pride he feels that she’s watching him. 

He bangs out another set of corn-cobb pull-ups when he notices her aroma starts to shift. He drops down to the ground starting a set of dive-bomber push-ups. He’s having to work for it now, grunting with the effort. He pants a little and the scent gets heavier. 

“That’s it, kid show me what you’ve got.”

He can’t help but growl a little at the challenge. It’s the first time he’s lost control of himself since he was eleven. The loss of control is alarming but the humiliation that she still sees him as a kid is all he can think about. He may be a kid, but he can smell her more strongly now. She’s wet, he can tell, wet for him because he’s working for her. As wet as she was in the sauna last week when she let him lick her out. 

Wetter than she was while she held him in her hand and stroked him until he shot off all over that damned whistle. 

It hasn’t blown right since.

He’s on the sixteenth dive-bomber. A small tremor rattles his core. Seventeen. He digs his toes into the grass. Eighteen. 

“You’re turning into a man right in front of my eyes.”

Nineteen. His triceps are burning.

“You’ve bulked up a bit since I got my hands on you, but you’re still such a boy in places.”

Twenty-one. He springs to his feet and draws himself up to his full height. She’s not looking at him, she’s looking his torso. He raises his arms over head and jumps up grabbing onto the branch. One, two, three, four, he’s already slowing down.

“Still have plenty of filling in to do.” Derek’s not looking at her. His gaze is focused up on the tree branch. He huffs out a breath as her fingers touch his torso and trail up as his lowers down. Seven, eight, nine. They trail a path of fire across the sternum and over his pectorals. Her fingernails catch on his nipple his grip slips and he drops to his feet.

She brings her other hand to his chest and he hisses as she rubs her thumbs over both of his nipples. “So much growing up left to do.” Her voice is low and throaty Derek leans forward as her hands pet him, stroking down his side, hips, squeezing and tickling along the way. “I’m going to mold you and sculpt you,” she says, grabbing hold of his ass to pull him against her. “Shape you exactly how I want you to be.” 

He’s hard against her belly. A low whine escapes his throat as he starts to rub himself against her. “You’ll let me won’t you.” It’s not a question. She never asks; she only tells and he always, always obeys. He leans in and grazes his lips against hers. “Won’t you, Derek?”

She never calls him by his name. It’s always Over-achiever, Boy, Kid, or some other permutation. “Yes, Kate.” Saying her name is better than the friction of his cock against the warmth of her. “Anything you want.”

Her smile is as blinding as the sun and as seductive as the moon. A wave of pheromones washes over Derek and he’s as helpless against them as he is her. “Good boy.”


	5. Chapter 5

**1996**

“Long distance runners, I want you to take the route through the preserve today. It’s a ten mile run so pace yourselves. Remember to hydrate.” 

Peter can’t help but grin to himself. The path through the preserve is pack territory. It’s a rough trail with lots of hills and a couple hair-pin turns. Peter knows it better than the back of his hand. The team disperses into groups, finding their mark and waiting for the whistle. There are only a handful of distance runners: Peter, Kate and a few underclassmen he doesn't know that look like they’d rather be anywhere else. Kate, however, looks differently. She looks fierce and determined, ready to win even though it’s only practice.

“Kate.” Peter lines up next to her a little closer than is strictly necessary. “Bet I can beat you.” Her heart rate spikes for a second and settles back down. She looks over at him and frowns. “Seriously, I bet you a kiss that I’m faster than you.”

Kate snorts in response. “I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last man on earth.”

Her scent says otherwise. “So beat me then,” he shrugs. “You win and you can name your prize. I win and I get a kiss. A real one, none of that kiss on the cheek or forehead crap.”

Kate turns her head to look him in the eye, the beginnings of a smirk tease at the corner of her mouth. “I win and you never speak to me again.”

The more she says it the less Peter believes she means it. That addicting, enticing scent is too interested. _Piquant_. Peter keeps his expression bland, knowing that it will only drive Kate more. “You’re on.”

Coach blows the whistle and they’re off. Kate in front of the pack, Peter right on her heels, the others a few steps behind. He lets her set the pace, follows doggedly in her steps. Sometimes he lets her get almost out of sight before he doubles his pace to catch up. They’re past half way through the run and the others are far behind them when he finally falls into step with her. She’s breathing heavy, sweat running down from her hairline into her eyes. She wipes her face on her sleeve and looks over at him. “Keeping up?” 

“Looks like it.”

“How about now?” Kate puts on a burst of speed that surprises Peter. He’d thought she was pushing herself all along, but clearly she’d been holding back. Pushing down the urge let loose and show her what he can really do, Peter lets himself have a small smile.

 

The goal is to win at the last second so Peter slows just enough that he’s only a few strides behind. Directly behind so he can shamelessly appreciate the view. Her honey blonde ponytail swishing back and forth across her shoulders is a pretty sight but the scent that follows behind her is better. The trail of tangy-spice is one he’d follow anywhere, regardless of his alpha’s orders. The closer they get to the end of the run, the more her heartbeat picks up and Peter runs to the same rhythm.

The finish line is only a few yards away. He knows he can beat her, knows he can dash forward with only a tiny amount of effort and cross the line first. 

He can’t look like he’s showing off, though. At least, not in a way that isn’t human and obvious. He has to make this work.

At the last few possible seconds Peter draws next to Kate. He makes his panting obvious, grunts with the effort, then pours on enough speed that he beats her by two full strides. Then he flashes her a cocky smile. “I win.”

 

Her frustration is touched with hints of rage and something he thinks might be admiration. Peter breathes it in while pretending to be exhausted, hands on his knees scenting her fully while she copies the posture and glares at him in annoyance. She can’t seem to stop smiling, though. Hidden flashes that Peter collects like shiny gems, proof that he’s getting more than just his promised reward. He’s getting to her.

After the coach congratulates them both, Peter backs away to wait for the rest of the group. He isn’t surprised when Kate follows. Even if she weren’t interested, she isn’t the type to welch on a bet. Her expression says she isn’t happy about it. Her scent is much too complicated for mere annoyance, though. _Much_ too complicated.

Peter breathes deep.

Walking in circles to cool down, Peter edges them further away from earshot. Gloating will only goad her, but doing it publicly will make those touches of rage, golden and oddly shimmery, grow stronger.

“When can I collect?” He asks. He smirks purposely and listens as she grinds her teeth together. Her frustration pours out along with a defeated air. She smells tarnished, now, and Peter finds he likes that best of all.

He doesn’t know if it’s because she lost or because she has to pay a forfeit she doesn’t—maybe—want. Either way, he’s delighted by her obvious reactions to him.

“Tomorrow,” Kate says, tilting her head up with a sudden half-grin curving just one side of her mouth. It’s pretty. “The 5k; double or nothing?” 

“How does that even work? I can’t never talk to you again more than once.”

“Once is enough.” She cuts away from him and heads towards the gym

“And I get two kisses?” Peter calls after her. “Or would you prefer second base?”

She flips him off.

Peter ignores it in favor of breathing in the sweet-musk of Kate’s arousal in the air.

* * *

Kate slams the car door so hard the entire car rocks on its suspension. 

 

“Well,” her father says, releasing the word slowly. “I suppose I don’t need to ask how school was today.” 

 

Kate huffs out a breath and stares out the window. She hates post-school interrogation; it’s always the same day after day, like Dad has a check list. “School was fine.”

 

“Ah.” He stays silent for several minutes. She knows it isn’t a break from the daily questions. This is a trap to make her speak first so Kate picks at her cuticles and stares out the car window. “Did anything unusual happen today?”

 

If only this was a victory. Kate blinks a little too hard and steels herself for the rest. 

 

“No, Dad.”

 

“Any behavioral changes in your classmates or teachers?”

 

Kate rolls her eyes, carefully keeping her face turned away from view. As if she knows any of her classmates well enough to recognize behavior changes. “No, Dad.”

 

“Did anyone do anything out of the ordinary? Pick up something too heavy or break something that wasn’t fragile?”

 

“Dad. There aren’t any werewolves at school. There aren’t any werewolves in Beacon Hills. Chill.”

 

“You watch your mouth, missy.” The light turns red and they come to a stop. She can practically feel his gaze as he looks at her. “Katie, sweetheart. Are you sure about that?” 

 

His tone of voice is so smug and condescending. The _Katie_. She really hates him sometimes. “Do you know something I don’t?” She looks him in the eye and tries to read him. Same old Dad. Nothing new there. He’s full of the same spite and hate since mom—

 

Kate looks away. It’s a defeat in the never ending battle between them, but she can handle it. She can’t handle what happened to her mom. Remembering it.

 

The light turns green and they both focus on the road. 

 

The silence is actually nice. She has better things to think about than her Dad’s werewolf vendetta. For starters, why did she let Peter Hale beat her today? She must have. She knows she can run faster than him and the way he’d seemed to flounder at the end …

 

Then there’s whether or not she’ll let him beat her tomorrow. In the heavy silence of the car, Kate tries to decide on a place to kiss him that she’s comfortable in but is away from her family. Her first kiss isn’t something she wants to share. 

If she lets him win.

* * *

Today’s practice is a short run, only 5k. 

 

Kate knows she can run an 8 minute pace easily and then… She’ll start out at her eight minute pace and either make Peter eat her dust and never have to speak to him again or … Or. 

 

Peter is a good looking guy and for some completely inexplicable reason he’s into her. She doesn't really understand. He’s one of the hottest, most popular guys in the entire school, which is just not Kate’s thing. 

 

Chasing boys, giggling about boys, that requires friends, something she doesn’t have time for. So how can she have to think about Peter while lying in her bed at night touching herself until she has to hide her face in the pillow to keep her dad from hearing and knowing what she’s up to? That’s not the kind of girl she is. She’s focused, driven; stubborn, and only interested in an Olympic Gold Medal. Nothing compares to that. 

 

Not even the family legacy.

 

Peter grins over at her and she can feel the bottom drop out of her stomach. “Double or nothing, right?”

 

“Right.” She grits her teeth and looks away.

 

Peter beats her. Again. The ass isn’t even sweating. 

 

That’s okay, she decides as she walks herself cool and completely avoids his gaze. She wasn’t really trying.

* * *

“Where are we going to do this?”

 

She couldn’t sneak up on him if she tried, but she doesn't know that, so Peter feigns being startled and turns around. “On a date? Dinner and a movie Friday night?” 

 

Her pulse jumps at his offer and her scent shifts, spiced with the subtle tang of nervousness. “I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen.” Admitting that hurts her. Peter can smell the blood as it rushes to her face, pink blooms warming her cheeks—and once again he’s blown away by this girl.

 

He forgot how young she is. She looks closer to his own age than fourteen. God. She’s only a few years older than the twins. To Peter, his nieces and nephews are children, still rounded with baby fat and prone to giggling rather than doing what is needed. When Peter looks at Kate, all he sees is a woman. Her curves, the strength of her, a steel core that somehow melts away the years. And he wants her.

 

Rather than say any of that, Peter glances over to the parking lot. “Is anyone picking you up today?”

 

She shakes her head. “Too short a run. I’ve gotta run home if I’m going to get all my training in.”

 

“Want some company?” He offers.

 

Kate shrugs and they’re off. He lets her set the pace as it’s her training after all. He’s not at all surprised she’s running faster now than she did at practice. They make it to her house in a little under twenty minutes. He scans the area listening for telltale heart beats, relieved to find it’s just the two of them. His mother may have ordered him to learn about the Argents through Kate, but she was adamant he stay away from her father and brother. 

 

They slow down as they approach the house, walking by the time they hit the steps to the porch. 

 

“So.” 

 

“So,” Peter echoes, grinning at her. She’s practically thrumming with nervous energy. He’s not much better off if for a completely different reason. He’s about to enter the home of the enemy. He allows his expression to look a little skeptical. “Double or nothing, isn’t that what we said?”

 

She huffs, obviously annoyed, at the reminder and reaches out to him. Her fingers are shaking as she grabs his arms and yanks him against her. The kiss is wet and sloppy, half on his chin. Peter doesn’t mind, trying not to laugh as she just as roughly shoves him away and wipes her mouth off on her arm.

 

“One down,” she announces.

 

“That doesn’t count,” he says, and cuts off her protests with a finger over her lips. “The bet was me kissing you. Remember?”

 

Another reminder of the lost bet and she flushes. Her pride is delightful. Peter cups her face in his hands, thumbs tracing her lips before he leans in close. Their lips don’t quite touch and her heart skips a beat when he stays right there.

 

“Is your family home? Let’s take this somewhere private.” The words make her shiver, heat and pressure and the feel of him smiling against her mouth. At least Peter hopes that’s why. “Please.” He breathes that onto her skin and he’s close enough to feel her resistance melt. Kate nods, stepping away from him to open the door and let him inside.

The first Hale wolf to see his enemy’s home.

 

She leads him up to her bedroom and Peter tries not to listen as she locks the door behind them. “If my dad comes home, you’re going to have to jump out the window,” Kate warns. “I can do it, so you should be able to.”

 

Peter looks out the window there’s a low-roof line, any determined human could make that jump. “Sure. I can do it.” 

 

Her bed is covered in a dull red comforter. Peter sits on it and pats the spot beside him. It’s a little further away than he wants, but space may be a good idea. Being in this house with the underlying smell of gun powder and wolfsbane is as exciting and dangerous as it is terrifying.

 

So is the way Kate looks deeply uncomfortable—and just as deeply wanting. Abruptly, Kate leaves the desk she’d been half-sitting on and plops down beside him. She reaches out and drags him to her again. She doesn’t kiss him, just rests her forehead against his and looks down to where his hand rests against her thigh.

 

“I’ve never done this before.” 

 

Peter assumed that. He still likes hearing it. “It’s okay. I have.” 

 

He kisses her again, slowly and only a little carefully. This time she melts against him. Her mouth is wet and soft, opening when he nips her lower lip and her gasp tastes like a reward. Peter loses time after that. He drowns in her scent, the rise of her pulse and the tiny, mewling cries she makes when he does something she likes. Somehow with Kate on top of him, , rocking herself against his erection with only the vinyl of their running shorts between them. His hands are up her shirt drawing patterns on her skin while hers tug on his hair. He’s close to coming in his pants and from his limited experience with women, she’s just as close as he is. 

 

He drags one hand down her back and works it between them, finding where she’s already soaked through. He rubs her there, hard and fast, then kisses away her cries as she comes. 

 

“You’re beautiful, Kate,” he tells her, scattering kisses across her face and neck. “So beautiful.” She collapses against him and he rolls them over. Peter watches her face the whole time he rocks himself between her legs, until his shorts are as messy as hers. 

 

They stay there for a while. Kate kisses him tentatively but with more confidence when Peter responds. She’s eager and Peter finds himself pushing down a laugh she won’t want to hear. He doesn’t feel sated. He feels _triumphant_.

 

Kate is a beautiful girl and he wants her, but all he can think is that one of his enemy’s family is pliant and sweet underneath him. Vulnerable and for the moment, utterly his.

 

Shaking that off, Peter complains about needing to go home. It makes her laugh. “Bathroom’s down the hall.” She checks her wrist watch and frowns at him. “You’d better hurry up. My dad and brother should be back from hunting soon. If they catch you here they’ll kill you.”

 

He does his best to act like a typical scared teenager and not someone afraid of their entire species being wiped off the planet. He thinks he may be successful when he casually inquires, “Hunting? What’s in season?” 

 

He’s off the bed and halfway across her room when she answers. “Nothing. They like to stake out the forest, figure out where they’ll set up their blinds and traps for next season.”

 

That sounds dangerous. And thorough. “They sound dedicated.” 

 

She rolls her eyes and flips over onto her belly looking at him through hooded lashes. “You have no idea. Now hurry up before they get back.”

He does after a quick exploration of the second floor on the way to the bathroom. Behind a door he ‘accidentally’ opens he finds a stash of weapons that would make the National Guard look under-stocked. Peter reminds himself to act like a flustered, human teenager as he heads back to the bedroom. A boy who is hopeful and nervous. “See you tomorrow after practice?” 

 

Kate’s expression is grim but he can smell the nervousness underneath, fear and want and the heady scent of excitement. “My family can’t find out about us.”

 

He kisses the tip of her nose and gives her a smile. “They won’t. I promise.”

* * *

His mom is home watching his nieces and nephews when he finally arrives. The twins are nowhere to be seen, but Derek comes barreling towards him. Peter plays like he’s been knocked down and tussles with him a few minutes. Derek buries his face against Peter’s shirt and breathes in deeply. “Uncle Peter? Why do you smell so good?”

 

“Get off your uncle, Derek and go play with your sister.” Derek is gone like a shot and Peter scrambles to his feet. His mother—his _alpha_ watches him closely. “You smell like Argent.” 

 

Peter shrugs. He hadn’t bothered to try and mask her scent intentionally. What was the point? Besides, she hadn’t specified how he was supposed to get the information. He likes his way. It’s … satisfying, Peter thinks and looks back at his alpha.

 

She gestures them to the back of the room where she can still see the kids but they won’t be overheard. “Tell me what you learned,” she orders.

Peter does.


	6. Chapter 6

**2006**

He’s the last one out after practice again. They always wait until the rest of the team has left, locker doors slamming behind them, before they come together in the pool, whirpool, or, one memorable occasion, in the showers. Kate on her knees in front of him had been almost more than he could handle. She’d made him wait, though, licking from root to tip until he begged her to make him come. It took a choked off _please_ before she smiled and slid her mouth down at the same time a finger slid into his ass. Derek grins to himself as he remembers how panicked he’d been. Then she’d found his prostate. Stars burst behind his eyes killing any objection to the intrusion in one amazing orgasm.

Derek slings his backpack over his shoulder and heads toward the parking lot. He can hear Kate humming to herself as she locks up. He concentrates on the sound of her voice, letting it fill him with that sense of completion he only gets when he’s with her. He can still taste her on his tongue, honey and chlorine and tart and everything Derek has come to love. Today was perfect. Kate had floated, peaceful and serene, while he ate her out, half-drowning between the water in the pool and the slick heat of her as he made her come once with his mouth, then again with fingers, and _again_ using both together. He’d gotten off without a single touch when he heard her whisper too quietly for a human to hear that she loved him as she came.

Messing around in the water is his idea. It’s the only way he can think of to keep his family from figuring out he’s in a relationship with an older, completely inappropriate woman. If they could smell her on him they would hound him until he made introductions and that can’t happen. His mother would confront her or report her to the principal or even worse, the Sheriff. Kate goes along with it because it’s kinky. That’s maybe the reason _he_ goes along with her insistence to use condoms every time she touches his erection. She claims it’s to keep him safe since she has more experience and wasn’t always safe in the past. He wants to feel her without the latex between them, but explaining he can’t get sick would also mean explaining what he is. 

Derek keeps his secrets to himself. It’s safer that way, for everyone. Secret keeping is easiest when you don’t have anyone you want to tell your secrets to, so what time he’s not with Kate, he’s alone.

“What took you so long?” Laura’s leaning against her car -- a red 2002 Camaro -- her sweet sixteen present. Derek has been on pins and needles since she got that car fantasizing about what their parents would get him. He’s secretly wishing for a Corvette even though he knows it’s out of the question. A Mustang would be nice though. “It’s been half an hour since the rest of the team came out.”

“I did some extra laps.” He shrugs off his backpack and gets in the car. “Why are you picking me up? Thought I’d have to run home.”

Laura cranks the engine then looks over at him. “You’ve been weird lately, weirder than usual.” Derek doesn't say anything and Laura sighs. “Why do you have to be such a lone wolf all the time? You’re never around and when you are home you’re locked in your room.”

“How would you know? You’re off at college, this is the first time you’ve been home in months.” 

“Mom told me. I’m sorry, I haven’t been home much, but you shouldn’t hide away just because I’m not around.” Laura rests her hand on his arm after she shifts into gear. “Hey, it’s gonna be a great moon. It’ll be like it was when we were kids.” She squeezes his arm.

“Whatever.”

“Come on, Derek something’s up. Bet you I can guess it in three – no two tries.” Laura sing-songs. “Hmm. What would make my baby brother even more of a loser-loner than he already is?” Her fingernails tap out a rhythm on the steering wheel. “Guess number one, are you ready?” The gears grind a little as Laura downshifts. “You’ve been sleeping with someone on your swim team.”

A wave of fear crashes over Derek, his claws are trying to push out so hard his fingertips are tingling. 

“Ha! Your pulse rate jumped sky high.” Laura crows, then makes a big show of leaning in closer to Derek sniffing loudly. “Derek’s got a girlfriend! You wait until I tell Jeremiah. He bet me twenty bucks last year that you were gay!” Laura cackles loudly and nearly runs off the road. “So why are you hiding her? You’ve got a girlfriend, big deal. Bring her around quit being an ass.”

“The big deal is it’s none of your or anybody else’s fucking business.” The words feel wrong even as he’s saying them but he can’t seem to stop them or the sick, black emotion that sounds like rage but feels so much more scared than that. “I’m sick and tired of never having any privacy. Somebody’s always in my face wanting to know why I don’t smile more or why I don’t have more to say or what’s wrong with me why don’t I have any friends.” He’s yelling now words bubbling out quicker than he can process them. “There’s nothing wrong with me, I just want to be left the hell alone to do what I want to do when I want to do it. So what if I’d rather read or write than run through the damn woods chasing deer I can’t stand the taste of? What’s so wrong with wanting a little solitude and normalcy? It would be fucking amazing to go through a day without a single person commenting on how I smell or sound or look. I am sick and fucking tired of being surrounded by pack, I’d give anything, _anything_ Laura to have one damn day where I didn’t have to talk to someone I was related to.”

The acrid alkaline of Laura’s anger flooding the car silences him. The rest of the drive home is silent, Derek mentally kicking himself for being an ass to his sister. He’s missed her like crazy this year, the only time he’s been able to forget a little about the gaping hole in his life where his sister used to be is Kate. He tries to work up some excitement and shift his attitude around. The whole pack is home for the Spring Equinox as well as a full moon in less than a week. The house is packed with uncles, aunts, and cousins. It’s his favorite time of year, better than Christmas and Thanksgiving rolled into one—but this year his heart isn’t in it. 

It’s back in the swimming pool with Kate.

The closer they get to the house, the more Derek can feel the pull of the pack -- always strongest when they’re all together -- the need to touch and scent, to let his guard down and just be. As they turn off the main road into the driveway he breathes in deeply and immediately begins to distinguish the scents into individuals. They’re the last to arrive so everyone will pile on them at once. He swallows and fights down his nerves, the chlorine from the pool and the shower after are bound to be enough to mask Kate’s scent.

Laura stops the car and puts it in park. Her breathing is slow and steady but her heart is an angry thumping bass beat tied to the grinding of her teeth. Her hands clench around the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turn white. Derek forces his own hands to relax then soothes his temper by flexing his fingers allowing his claws to slip in and out to the beat of her heart. The scent of Derek’s shame – sour and fetid --has very nearly over powered the thick cloud of Laura’s anger. “What makes you so special?”

The segue is unexpected and startles Derek into looking at his sister. She’s staring at him, eyes burning with the blue-flame of the shift. “What?”

“Do you think you’re the first person to feel like that? Newsflash Derek, we all do. Every single one of us at one time or another has desperately wanted to have regular senses. Who wants to be aware of the way Julie can’t stop laughing when she’s having sex or how Jacob’s feet smell like rotten eggs even when gets out of the shower or worse to know with every sense you possess that Shane won’t keep eating cheese even though he’s lactose intolerant?”

Derek sighs and shakes his head. “It’s not just that.”

“Of course it’s not.” Laura rolls her eyes at him. “You’ve just turned fifteen, it’s everything.”

The dismissive tone brings his anger back to the boiling point. “Don’t patronize me.” 

“I’m not patronizing you dumb-ass, I’m trying to reassure you that what you feel is normal and tell you that if you suck it up for a while, the over-whelming intensity of what you’re feeling will die back down to normal. You’re not always going to feel everything as keenly as you do now. It gets easier.” She grins at him, sly and wolfish. “Believe me, when you go off to college you’ll miss it.” Derek starts to protest but she holds up a hand to stop him. “Trust me. My last two years at home were the most miserable of my life but I seriously get homesick every single day.”

There is no way Derek will ever be homesick, none at all. 

“Look, this is probably grandma’s last equinox – smile and act like you’re happy to be here. Who knows, if you pretend long enough it may even come true.” Laura shifts the car back into gear they spend the rest of the drive in silence; Derek staring out the window into the woods while Laura fiddles with the stereo. In minutes, they’re parked and standing in the driveway.

“Come on.” Laura tugs at his sleeve when he dawdles by the car still ticking itself cool and quiet. Her anger still hovers like an ashy sort of perfume, but it’s muted now. She’s always forgiven him too easily. “What are you waiting for?”

Then they’re walking through the door and it starts. First the twins. Then their mom, somehow different now that she’s alpha and not just his mom. Derek almost recoils when she touches him, the unfamiliar pressure wrong against his skin. For the first thirteen years of his life, his grandmother had been alpha. The change isn’t supposed to be jarring but Derek can’t help but catalog when his mother is _mom_ and when she’s _alpha_. After her is their dad, hugging him with a firm back-slap.

Then the rest of the pack piles on. Laughter and teasing, warm, comfortable bodies flood Derek’s senses. He’s overwhelmed with the contagious joy flowing through the sense of packpackpackPACK of everyone being together for the first time since Laura went to school. Derek can’t believe he’s forgotten the amount of strength and power than flows between them at times like these. It’s electric and addictive and perfect.

Derek feels the last bit of worry fall away, his shoulders lower down and he realizes he’s rumbling a little with contentment. He catches Laura’s eyes and grins at her, deliberately letting a little fang show. She throws back her head and laughs. Then they’re all chuckling a little basking in the all-encompassing feeling of pack and safety and family and home.

A timer goes off in the kitchen and the pack shifts a bit as the cooks separate to tend their dishes. Then they all break off one by one until it’s just Derek and Peter standing beside each other in the foyer. Peter palms the nape of his neck and leans in deliberately scenting Derek’s face. Peter raises an eyebrow at him and grins knowingly at him. “I’d recognize that scent anywhere.”

A wave of panic washes over him. Derek’s pulse picks up and he scrabbles for a lie, anything he can say to put Peter off the trail of what he’s been up to. “You’ve been with a woman. She smells delicious and … familiar.” Peter trails off, shaking his head a little as if to put something out of his mind. “Congratulations.” Peter squeezes his neck and heads toward the library and his never ending project of scanning all their family texts into the computer.

The phone in his back pocket vibrates and Derek pulls it out and looks Kate’s text.

_Did all your family make it home?_

He shoots off a _Yes_. Then follows it quickly with a _Miss you_.

He’s halfway up the stairs to his room when his phone vibrates again.

_Tomorrow after practice. I have a surprise for you_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, this chapter could be triggery. Parent to child verbal, emotional, psychological, and physical abuse.
> 
> Thank you LDThomps for stepping in and beta-ing these last few chapters!
> 
> I've revised some minor errors in character ages in earlier chapters.

**1996**

Kate is too dedicated to mess around with Peter during practice -- though there was that one time during a long run where they had gotten so far ahead of the rest of team that they had darted off the path and made out against the trunk of an old oak tree. Peter had managed to get one hand up her shirt and the other down her pants two fingers deep before Kate twisted away and ran off. The smell of her arousal and panic provided all the impetus he needed to chase after her.

So they make do at school -- in supply closets and dark corners of the library or gym. He likes sneaking around with her, letting her feel like she’s in on the game even though she’s so far out of the loop it’s laughable. Peter has gleaned everything he can from her, for all that she is an Argent and obviously training to be a hunter, she’s not one. Yet. If Peter has his way she never will be. She resents her father, his dedication to the ‘business,’ paranoia, and unrealistic expectations. Peter fans the flames of her resentment and soaks up every off-hand bit of information she gives him, then passes it on to his Alpha.

“You’re getting too close to that girl.” She says with a pointed sniff. “You’re covered in her scent all the time.”

Peter shrugs. “How else am I supposed to get close to her?”

“Our family and the Argents have centuries worth of bloody history, son. Their women always seem irresistible to our men. It’s caused more heartbreak and death than you could ever imagine.”

“Then it’s our turn to seduce them.” His mother crosses the room to look out the window where the kids are in the yard. She doesn't say anything for so long Peter joins her to see what she’s looking at. Peter’s disappointed that it’s just the twins, Laura, and Derek playing tag. The only thing remarkable about it is they’re staying within the boundaries of the yard instead of spilling out into the woods.

“The Blood feud between our families has gone on for so long I don’t think we could stop the pattern now if we tried. You’ll see what I mean when you start working with the family archive.” She sighs and looks at Peter, he doesn't see his Alpha in this moment, she’s all mom right now. “I wish I hadn’t gotten you involved, this can’t end well.”

“It’ll be fine, Mom. I swear.” He lets her hug him and run her fingers through his hair. “Besides, I really do like Kate.” He pulls out of the hug and catches his mother’s gaze. “If she wasn’t an Argent, I really would want her to be my girlfriend.” 

“Oh Peter.” His mother hugs him again. “I was afraid of that.”

* * *

There’s a note in his locker that reads 

_Dad’s left town for the weekend. My house after practice._

It takes the entire Spanish period for his hard-on to subside.

* * *

They run to Kate’s after their track practice. She’s confident that they’re alone, but Peter isn’t so sure. So he carefully listens before entering the house, then listens even more closely while surreptitiously scenting as much as he can while following Kate upstairs to her room. As far as he can tell, they’re safe. 

“Where did your dad go?” Peter asks while kicking off his shoes.

Kate rolls her eyes at him, then pulls her t-shirt and sports bra over her head, dropping it to the floor. “Out of town. Hunting, where else would he go?”

Peter can’t take his eyes off her breasts. He’s never seen both of them exposed before. Normally he gets a glimpse of a nipple or side-boob when they’re making out, enough to satisfy him as long as he can touch them, but a flash is nothing compared to the real thing. He caresses first one, then the other, then both at once. Kate sighs a bit when he thumbs her nipples. He wants to taste them, so he does. He captures one between his lips and kisses it, Kate’s fingers twine in his hair then pull a bit when he nibbles before moving on to the next one.

“Feels good.” Kate pulls his hair harder and Peter backs off and raises an eyebrow at her. “My turn.” She pushes him until he backs up against the bed then plops down with a bounce. “Take off your shirt.” 

He does and tosses it on the floor. She pushes him down flat on the bed and straddles him, her hands pressing down on his chest as if to immobilize him. Peter grins at her when she teases his nipples with her thumbs. “Feels good to me too.” Kate starts kissing her way down his chest, stopping every so often to ask if it feels good.

It does. So he tells her so. The ends of her hair trail down his body and they tickle a bit, making him wriggle like a puppy. When she reaches the waistband of his track shorts she plants a sucking kiss on his abdomen then sits up. He reaches for her breasts again but she leans back a bit so she’s out of reach. He lifts his hips and rocks her forward, causing her tip towards him. She braces herself on his chest and kisses him quickly on the lips before rolling off of him and lying beside him on the bed.

Her heartbeat picks up and Peter can taste her anxiety on the air. He rolls onto his side and skims his hand along the curves of her body, stopping at her hip, which he cups in his hand and squeezes gently. “What is it?” He breathes against her mouth before kissing along her jaw. She smells so good, even the anxiety is sweet.

“I want you.” 

He smiles and kisses behind her ear, then nibbles down the tendon of her neck. “You have me.”

“No. Peter, I want sex, with you.”

 

She’s not lying. He rolls her under him and cups her face in his hands. “Kate, are you sure? Once you do it, you can’t take it back.” 

Her hands close around his wrists, squeezing tightly enough that her nails are biting into his skin. “Other than wanting to be on the Olympic Team, I’ve never wanted anything more.” She shifts beneath him until her legs are wrapped around him then cants her hips up, rubbing herself against his erection. “You want me, don’t you?”

He surges forward and kisses her until they’re both breathless, grinding against her the entire time. He’s on the verge of coming in his pants when he pulls away from the kiss. “Yes, yes, I want you.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. He does want her. Wants her more than he should, considering she doesn't know why he’s really there. “I don’t have anything.”

“I do.” She gestures to her bedside table. “In the top drawer.” Peter rolls off of her and sits up. He opens the drawer and there are half a dozen condoms. He recognizes them as the ones the school nurse leaves in a candy jar outside of her office. He grabs one and then lies down beside her again. 

“Have you done this before?” Her heart is thundering in her chest and the anxious smell is stronger, burning leaves and kerosene clouding his head. 

He kisses her again before he answers. “Once.” It’s even the truth. 

“Will it hurt?” There’s no fear in her expression or voice, she could fool a human into believing she wasn’t scared, but not him.

“I don’t know. She wasn’t a virgin.” He drops the condom to the bed. “Kate, we don’t have to do--”

“I know that.” Her voice is sharp as broken glass. She takes a deep breath in, then lets it out again nice and slow. Her heart calms down a little and the kerosene smell lessens incrementally. “But I want to. With _you_.”

There’s something there, she’s hiding from him. “What’s going on?”

She shrugs and sits up, fingers restlessly picking at the comforter. “It’s dad. He’s making noises about moving again.” He sucks in a breath before he can control his response, relief floods through him. If the Argents leave … it would be best for everyone if they left. The sooner the better, even if it means he never sees her again.

And if he’s never going to see her again …

“I’ll miss you.” He pulls her down on top of him again. They kiss until they’re breathless before he asks her one more time. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She practically yells it. “God, come on, let’s do it already.”

They finish undressing and his hands shake a little as he rolls the condom on. Then he’s cradled between her legs as they wrap around him, pulling him closer, pulling him _inside_. It’s not like it was before, it can’t be. Kate’s human and a virgin (he smells the blood as much as he feels the barrier break inside of her), he has to control himself, his thrusts, the grip he has on her hips, he has to keep his eyes squeezed shut in case his eyes flare, can’t let his claws break free even though the itch to let them out is painful, but then her mewling little cries of pain turn into low moans of pleasure, she’s wet and getting wetter by the second, he’s so close to the edge and then she says his name, starts telling him how good it feels, begs him to look at her and he can’t say no to her, he can’t, not when she’s clenching around him and he’s seconds away from losing it himself. 

“Peter, please, look at me.” She’s begging, saying it over and over. Her hands grab his face, tilts it toward her, she kisses him between words and he has to, has to look at her when he comes. He opens his eyes to see her staring at him, she’s flushed and a little sweaty and the most gorgeous damn thing he’s ever seen. So he tells her so. She keens then clenches around him, and Peter can’t fight the urge to come any longer and follows right behind her. 

He collapses on top of her then rolls them over onto their side. They lay there cuddling until they catch their breath. “I need to deal with this.”

“There’s a trashcan over there.” She gestures toward her desk. 

He’s back in bed in a manner of seconds, wrapping himself around her. Peter nuzzles the back of her neck. They’re asleep in seconds.

* * *

“Dad?” Kate knocks on his office door, then walks on in. “What’s going on?”

“Do you remember all the werewolf tells?”

Kate barely resists rolling her eyes. “Yes, of course.”

“What about the lens flare, you remember that one?”

“Yes.” 

“Then how can you explain this?” He picks up the remote control from his desk and turns on the television. He fumbles with another remote and a video starts to play. It’s Kate’s bedroom. Kate’s heart starts to pound and her knees begin to shake. She watches, silently as she and Peter come into the room. She has to sit down as she watches herself take off her shirt. She knows what’s coming next. Peter’s going to ask where her dad is and they’re going to have sex, her father has a video of her losing her virginity.

Her father has a video camera set up in her bedroom to record her every move. She fights against the urge to vomit. “Dad, what does this have to do with werewolves?” Peter must have looked directly at the hidden camera - his eyes flare - and Kate has to swallow back nausea. 

“Get the picture now, missy? Do you understand that you have been consorting with the enemy?” His voice keeps getting louder and louder until he’s screaming at her. “You whored yourself out to a beast, Kate. You let a monster fuck you. You let an animal stick its dick inside of you, you make me sick.” 

“Dad, no, it’s not like that, he’s not--” Kate chokes out the words through tears and great gasping shuddering breaths. 

He’s standing over her now, alternately shaking and slapping her. “Shut your stupid mouth. That whole damn family is nothing but monsters and humans lying down with animals, they’re the reason we’re in this hippy, shit-for-brains town in the first place. And instead of following your training and learning to recognize the animals when you came across them, you laid down with them instead.”

Kate crouches down on the floor ducking her head beneath her arms trying to shelter herself from the blows he’s raining down on her. “No, no, no-” 

“ _YES_.” It’s not a shout, it’s a roar so loud it rattles her bones. “You make me sick. You’re not any better than your mother, you’re just alike, leave you alone for one minute and then you spread your legs for any _thing_ , won’t you?” He kicks her then, in the ribs and the belly, and then she blessedly blacks out.


	8. Chapter 8

**2006**

Derek waits in the locker room until the only heartbeats he can hear are the two of theirs. He grabs his duffel and follows the sound of her heart to the swimming pool. She’s standing naked on the pool deck, her back turned to the door he came through. The only lights are the security lights casting an eerie blue glow that limns Kate -- the sight of her takes his breath away. By the time his duffel hits the ground he’s got her in his arms, doing his best to kiss her until she’s breathless. 

“Here, put this on.” Kate says and holds out her hand. Derek takes the condom and starts stripping. “Hey!” Her voice is sharp and loud, he freezes instantly, arms and head caught in a tangle of shirt. “Slow down, give me a show.” 

He drops his shirt back down and takes a deep breath. It’s not the first time Kate’s wanted a show, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He puts the condom wrapper in his mouth so he can use his hands to skim over his body on top of his shirt and shorts. He closes his eyes and lets his hips sway a little side to side. When he breathes in the first tang of her arousal he starts pulling his shirt off nice and slow. 

“Yeah, like that.” She can’t growl, she’s not a wolf, but she does a fair impression of it when he rubs a finger over one nipple and then the other. He loves how worked up she gets when he reveals his body to her, but he really hates the process. Stripping makes him feel exposed and vulnerable; he’d much rather be naked already or half-dressed. “Let me see your ass.” 

He can feel the blush that started on his face spread down his neck and chest; it’s a relief to turn around so she can’t see it. He flexes his shoulders and squeezes his glutes hard and is rewarded with a moan. “Look at you, look at how I’ve built you up.” She’s still nearly growling and it goes straight to his dick. He can feel his erection throb in time with her voice when she speaks.

He doesn’t hear her move closer, so he startles when she traces the line of his trapezius from his neck down his back. Her hand glides along his lats then smooths across his lower back until it rests on his ass, squeezing and kneading the muscles there. “You’ve gotten so big and strong and _cut_ , and it’s all because of me. Such a beautiful boy.” He doesn’t touch her even though he desperately wants to, because she hasn’t said he could yet. So he stands perfectly still and lets her inspect him, flexing this group of muscles and then that group while she squeezes him and pokes him and moves him around like a doll. “Say thank you Coach Argent.”

“Thank you Coach Argent.” The condom falls out of his mouth and lands on the pool deck.

“Pick that up.” He does. When he’s back in position she touches his face, then she tilts his chin down so she can kiss him on the mouth – mostly teeth and a little lip, but no tongue. Never any tongue. “You’re such a good obedient boy.” She kisses him again, on the chin this time. “Put it on.”

Derek rips the wrapper open with his teeth and starts putting it on. When he’s got it half-way on Kate’s laughter rings out like a bell. “Catch me.” She calls as she runs away. It takes a few precious seconds to get the condom in place and then he follows. He’s trying his best to catch her without revealing himself, but the pool deck is slippery and she has a head start. He careens around a corner of the pool and wipes out – the sting of cut skin and concrete burn fades nearly before he can register the hurt. He can hear her laughter echoing all around him and then the sound of a body hitting water. He climbs to his feet and sees her swimming as hard as she can. Derek smirks a bit and goes to intercept her in the pool.

He catches her in the deep end, grabs an ankle first and then a hip, he thinks he has her and then she rolls under the water taking him with her. After that, it’s a fight for dominance, but Derek is too worried he’ll drown her to make much of an effort. When they finally break through the surface of the water, Kate has wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Somehow she’s managed to slide herself halfway down his dick. “That’s it, Over-achiever; get it all the way in.” 

He manages – barely -- to keep his head mostly above water while she fucks herself on him. He can’t feel the heat he’d expected because of the cool temperature of the pool. He can’t feel the slick of her between the condom and the water. He can feel her clench, though, and it’s so much more than anything he’d felt before. He closes his eyes and tries not to swallow the entire pool when she pushes against him again and his head is dunked under water.

This was not how he expected to lose his virginity. The sounds Kate’s making are nearly enough to make him forget that, though. He can tell she’s close by the way her eyes slam shut and her face scrunches up. He does what he can to thrust while treading water, and it must work, because he can feel her start to pulse around him, her jaw goes slack and her back bows, and the arms around his neck pull and his head is under water again. She keeps throbbing around him, pushing him further and further under. He needs to breathe more than he needs anything else, even more than he needs to come and still she keeps riding him. Each time she rolls her hips he can feel her squeeze around him – throat and dick. Derek kicks with his legs, struggling valiantly to get his head above water, but he can’t. 

She’s got him in a death-grip. Literally. She’s still grinding on him riding him until his vision grays along the edges. Grinds and rides him until everything fades from gray to black.

* * *

“Derek! Oh my god, Derek!” There’s a splash and then hands grab his hair and yank. “Jesus Christ, Derek come on, wake up, wake up!”

Derek fights his way to consciousness following the sound of Laura’s voice. He’s so cold and wet and he hurts. God, he hurts all over. Every muscle in his body aches like, like…

Like he’s been ridden hard and left to drown. Jesus.

He opens his eyes to see Laura, fully dressed in the pool, tears streaming down her face as she slaps him. “What?” He looks around; Kate isn’t anywhere to be found. “What happened? What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Derek, something is _wrong_. We’ve got to go home, come on.”

He tries to get his feet under him, but he’s too weak. Laura hauls him to the side of the pool and then gets an arm under him and heaves him up the steps. “Can you feel it? Derek, come on, no leave your bag, we’ve got to get home.” There’s an edge of fear so sharp in Laura’s scent it triggers his gag reflex. He heaves and an ocean of pool water spews out and still Laura drags him on, out of the gym, and to her car. 

She throws him in the passenger seat, slamming the door shut just as he pulls both feet in the car. She leaps over the hood and is in the driver’s seat before he can blink. He can feel it now, outside the edges of Laura’s panic and his own near-drowning. There’s a cloying, acrid stench of something burning filling his head, making his head fuzzy and itchy. His skin starts to burn like he’s standing too close to a fire. He looks over at Laura and her eyes are flaring red. Alpha red.

“Laura, your eyes.”

Claws shoot out her fingertips and he sees fang drop below her upper lip. “What’s going on?” There’s a hole in his chest. The air is filled with smoke, he can’t breathe, he feels like he’s on fire and there’s a hole in his chest where the pack should be.

“Hunters.” It’s more growl than voice. “Argents.” The word rumbles out of Laura heavy with the weight of Alpha and Derek cringes in his seat. The Argents are hunters?

He can hear sirens behind them, lights flashing red and blue, he wants to tell her to slow down, that she’s going to get a ticket, but Laura’s eyes are red and there’s a hole threatening to eat him alive in his chest. He claws at his arms and legs, trying to make the burning itch go away. Laura drives faster. The car tilts up on two wheels as she yanks it into the turn. He can see the flames from the edge of the driveway shooting above the tree-line. They match the phantom flames he can feel climbing across his body.

Laura slams on the brakes and is out of the car before Derek can even acknowledge their home is engulfed in flames. She’s screaming out names as fire trucks and police cars turn into the drive behind them. He can see something move in the flames, feels it in his chest when Laura sees it too. She’s running up the steps past the flames on the porch trying desperately to make it to the thing that’s moving. 

It’s a person.

It’s someone from his family.

Derek opens the car door and falls out onto the ground, puking up chlorinated pool water and smoke and the taste of burning flesh that is searing its way into his brain.

Firefighters and police and ambulances roll into the yard. They haul Laura away from the house and douse the thing moving on the porch with water.

It’s Peter, or what’s left of him. 

Everyone else is dead. Because of hunters. Because of Argents.

Everyone is dead but him, Laura, and the shell of his favorite Uncle.

Because of Derek.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue -- after it's revealed Peter is the rogue alpha

**2011**

 

Epilogue

 

The wind shifts and Derek sniffs the air. His nose twitches and his throat clogs up -- the familiar and hated spicy-sweet tang of Argent. Derek rolls his shoulders and begins mentally preparing himself for yet another argument with Scott. The small creatures of the forest go quiet until all he can hear is the snap of fallen twigs and rustle of feet on dead leaves.

 

They really need to work on Scott’s… everything. He’s never seen a werewolf so uncomfortable in their own skin. Even the bites he knew back in New York had more stealth than Scott. The rustling snaps get louder. Derek backtracks through the woods and comes up behind Scott. He stalks the boy for the last twenty yards of tree-line. As soon as Scott clears the undergrowth and makes it to the yard Derek bounds, pounces, and rolls his prey beneath him.

 

Scott yells and struggles beneath him, but Derek just sets his teeth more firmly into Scott’s shoulder. The musk of Argent is overwhelming at this point. They must have been making out right before Scott headed this way, because Allison’s scent fills not only his head but his mouth and throat as well. It clings to his teeth like an oily film. He lets go of Scott and coughs, then spits. He’d happily kill someone for a clean drink of anything to get that taste out of his mouth.

 

“You’ve been with her again. I can smell it so thick I can taste it all over you.”

 

“She’s a person, not an it.” Scott’s mulishness would almost be admirable if it were over anything other than this.

 

“She’s an Argent.” The word is bitter bile on his tongue. He spits again. “You can’t trust them, Scott. How many times do we have to go through this?”

 

Scott growls, eyes shifting yellow. “Allison is not her family!”

 

It’s like beating his head against a brick wall, painful and pointless. His hands clench into fists. He’d give anything to turn this boy over to Laura; she’d knock some sense into him in about two seconds flat. A slap, a snarl, and a dose of Alpha power (not Peter) is what he needs. Derek wouldn’t mind it either. It would certainly make everything simpler, if not easier.

 

“You’re a Hale wolf now.” He forces his hands to relax, then does his best to make his face more open and easy. “Allison is from a family of hunters. Who specifically hunt _Hale Wolves_ , can you not see that it’s going to end like this?” He gestures around him to charred and barren remains of his family home.

 

“I won’t be a wolf forever.” Scott’s face shifts back to human. “We’re going to kill the alpha and I’ll be human again.”

 

He’s so young, nearly as young as Derek had been when all of this started. No one had told Derek to stay away from Kate. He wonders if they had, what - if anything - would have turned out differently.

 

“Then stay away from her until you’re cured.” Scott rolls his eyes and Derek gives up, mentally throwing his hands into the air.

 

It’s pointless to try and tell him anything.

 

Scott will have to learn first-hand what it means to love an Argent.


End file.
